Nachos, PB&J's and Burritos
by Avaunt
Summary: What if instead of Reed Garrent, Bart Allen traveled to New York City in search of his biological mom?


What if instead of Reed Garrent, Bart Allen traveled to New York City in search of his biological mom?

Disclaimer: I do not own Smallville or CSI NY

Hope you enjoy my little take on a Smallville crossover. I always think that Bart is never given enough time in the spotlight, especially in fan fiction. He just seems like such a great character to put into all kinds of situations. So I hope you find that all of the characters in this piece of fiction are canon, and I would love to hear what you think. So, please read and review!

Avaunt

Nacho's, PB&J and Burritos

by Avaunt

* * *

"Don't turn around." Stella's sudden, sharp order had CSI Mac Taylor stiffen, but he ignored the itch to turn around and instead listened to his partner, keeping his eyes forward. The two New York Crime Scene Investigators stood out side the city police station, Stella just finishing a case more bizarre then usual while Mac still had the unpleasant duty of catching a dirty cop.

"Mac. That's him. That's the kid in the red hoodie that's been following me ever since I dropped off your gift. But every time I get close he just disappears into thin air." Stella's tone was even and steady, but Mac could easily see her eyes tighten slightly. "I'm sure its nothing but…"

Mac interrupted, and laid a comforting hand on Stella's shoulder. "I'll circle back, and catch the guy from behind. We'll figure this out Stella." Stella Bonasera was one of the most levelheaded and intelligent person Mac knew. If his partner said she was being followed, then she was being followed. And he was determined to find out why.

Stella's shoulders loosened and she breathed out a sigh of relief, tucking an escaped curl behind her ear. For a split second she thought she was going crazy. She nodded with a bright, steady smile. "Alright, I'll pretend to be on the phone and wait for you at the corner."

Mac nodded, and quickly crossed the busy road, heading towards a near-by coffee vender. From across the street, he could easily see a kid wearing a red hoodie, casually leaning on a lap post, reading the paper. Stella had been right. Mac's mouth tightened in anger. No one threaten his people! Taking his coffee, Mac causally crossed the street again, behind the red hoodie, and slowly began making his way back to Stella.

It wasn't very hard for Mac to walk up to the mysterious kid unnoticed in the crowded New York street. The moment Mac reached him, he quickly grabbed the kid by his bicep, and thrust the kid up against the wall, bracing his forearm against his chest; trapping him. The kid let out a surprised shout and instantly began to struggle.

"Take it easy! Why are you following her? What do you want?" Mac demanded, tightening his grip on the red hoodie.

"Who are you?" Stella asked, coming up from behind Mac.

The boy threw up his hands. "Whoa _tipo duro! _Chill out. The name's Bart Allen, I just… I just wanted to talk to you."

"Why?" Stella asked.

For the first time the kid looked nervous, looking down at the ground before asking hesitantly: "Are you Claire Conrad?"

Stella shook her head in confusion. "What? No."

Mac dropped his hands, took half a step back and sharply looked at the kid in front of him. "Do you mean Claire Conrad Taylor?"

Stella looked at Mac in disbelief and Bart nodded slightly. "Yah."

Mac's heart stopped, noticing for the first time it was Claire's blue eyes staring at him. In fact the boy in front of him looked so much like Claire it took his breath away. He could feel a sharp, deeply buried hurt bubble up and had to struggle to keep a straight face and an even steadier voice: "She was my wife."

* * *

Mac couldn't help but stare at Bart across the diner table, watching as the kid attacked the plate of nachos in front of him. Soon, faster then Mac thought was humanly possible; the plate was empty, and the kid, _Bart,_ was sipping his cola, a self-satisfied smile on his face. Seeing Claire's crooked smile on Bart's face made Mac's heart ache with grief. God, he missed seeing that smile.

Taking a deep breath, Mac looked at Bart steadily, "Claire died on 9/11. She was in the World Trade Centre."

Bart stared at Mac for a moment in disbelief, before looking away, taking a moment. Bart's head dropped into his hands, and he stared at the dinner table, studying the table in a desperate attempt to bring his swirling emotions under control. Part of him just wanted to run. He could be anywhere in the world in seconds, far away from this place that suddenly was filled with broken hopes and dreams. China was sounding really good right about now. Finally though, he raised his head.

"And the _señora_ I was following?"

"That's a friend. Stella Bonasera. We're both crime scene investigators."

Bart attempted a weak smile, "Cool, so you both fight crime." His leg bounced nervously.

Mac chuckled. "I guess you could say that." He gave Bart a long look before asking gently: "How did you…?"

"I got the address from the adoption agency." This time Bart shot Mac a smile, proud of his little bit of investigating skills. He could have asked Chlolious, but he knew that a certain farm boy and his intergalactic problems kept her constantly busy. Plus, it was personal.

Mac looked at Bart, who didn't look like he was eighteen. "So your adoptive parents were ok with this?"

Bart straightened and fidgeted in his seat, his fingers now dancing along the surface of the table. "I haven't spoken with them in years. My, uh, friend helped me out. He's sort of been looking out for me for the past few years."

Mac nodded, but didn't press, even though he was curious to know why Bart was on his own. Letting it pass, Mac asked another question. "So you thought Stella was…?"

Bart nodded sheepishly. "I saw her come out the apartment building about a week ago."

Mac nodded in understanding. "Saturday. She stopped by to give me a gift for my birthday."

"I thought it was her immediately." Bart shook his head, and looked up at Mac, his eyes watering slightly. "I guess… I guess I was just so worried about what to say, how she would react...." Bart trailed off. "It never even crossed my mind that it couldn't be her."

"Why didn't you talk to her?" Mac asked softly, resisting the urge to comfort Claire's son. He could already tell Bart wouldn't appreciate it.

Bart sighed. "Because I've been waiting to talk to my real mom since I was ten years old." He could feel his eyes water and he shut his eyes tightly, because superheroes didn't cry. Especially in front of a cool, steady detective, even if Bart could feel the man gaze at him with only empathy and concern. "I guess I was scared." Bart could hear his voice crack, and for a brief split-second was wildly thankful that none of the guys were here to hear that particular admission.

Mac leaned back, his heart going out to the kid who never got a chance to meet Claire. Who never got a chance to discover how wildly funny, smart and caring Claire was. "You know, Claire talked about you all the time." At this Bart raised his head. "She always talked about how she wanted to find you when you were eighteen."

Suddenly Bart just wanted to be angry, to lash out and replace the terrible throb that was lodged right behind his heart. "Oh really?" He snapped, "Then why did she give me up if I was so important? If she thought about me so much, why didn't she just keep me instead of throwing me away?"

"She got pregnant very young. Your father was her high-school sweetheart. And abortion…" Here Mac trailed off, remembering his late wife love for life. "She wouldn't have one. It just wasn't an option. She wanted you to have a chance for a better life." He gazed at the disheartened teenager, seeing Claire in every expression, mannerism and quirk. "She loved you very, very much Bart."

Bart nodded, his anger spent. "I wish I could have met her." He suddenly grinned softly. "So what? Do I have any half-brothers, half-sisters? Any boyfriends I have to intimidate?" He puffed out his chest slightly.

Mac shook his head in regret, wishing now more then ever that Claire and him had decided to take that next step. "No. We didn't…"

Bart sobered slightly, before grinning again. Part of Mac marveled at the kid's continuous enthusiasm. "What did she look like?" Bart asked, and motioned to himself before continuing. "Because, dude, she helped make one good looking man."

Mac raised an eyebrow and chuckled at the kid's ego. He pictured his late wife, and like always, Mac could feel his throat close up and his heart constrict. God, she had been beautiful. He cleared his throat.

"She was 5.6, athletic build." He coughed. "She had light brown-hair, big blue eyes and a crooked smile." Mac paused, battled past the pain and looked into Bart's eyes, "She looked a lot like you."

Bart could feel his eyes water again, and this time couldn't stop the escaping tear as it fled down his cheek. He really, really wished he could have met her. Roughly, he swiped at the tear, his cheeks reddening in embarrassment. He really needed to get out of here. His emotions were running too high, and he felt like the current heavy atmosphere was suffocating him. Bart knew he was barely holding it together. It was time to split.

"Well, I better get going. Thanks for the nacho's _hombre_."

Mac leaned forward and snatched Bart's sleeve; unable to let the last link he had to Claire just walk out the door. "Wait, wait. Uh, why don't I give you my number? Or you could give me yours?"

Bart stopped and looked over at Mac curiously. "Why?" He asked in disbelief. "I mean, I'm not related to you at all and…" Bart stopped and swallowed. "What I came to find is already gone." He looked up at glared. "And I don't need any pity. I've been taking care of myself for a long time."

Mac looked at Bart steadily, "It's not pity. I can show you some pictures of Claire if you want. Maybe tell you a more about her." He smiled slightly. "Plus, I know Claire, and its what she would have wanted."

Bart stared at him for a second; more then long enough for him to decide, nodded. "Uh, ok sure dude. You got a pen?" Bart grabbed the offered pen, and jotted down his number onto a nearby napkin. "Thanks again for the nacho's Mr. Taylor."

"It's Mac. And here, take my card." He handed Bart a small, white card with his number on the back. He met Bart's eyes and said seriously: "If you ever need anything, you call me."

"Uh, ok sure. Uh ditto." Bart nodded, taken back at the intensity in Mac's eyes. "I'll see you around then, I guess." With that, Bart Allen pretty much fled the diner and as soon as he was out the door, he took off in a flash.

Back in the diner, Det. Mac Taylor still sat at the table, studying the napkin with Bart's number scrawled on it as he thought about the bright, out-going kid. A small smile crept onto his face. Claire would have liked Bart, would have liked his jovial personality and even his vast amount of confidence. Slowly, carefully, Mac folded up the napkin and slipped it into his jacket pocket. Then, he pulled out Flack's black memo book and looked it over, his face growing sterner as he thought about the possibility of a dirty cop. He had a case to finish.

* * *

.483 second's later, Bart reached Oliver Queen's New York penthouse loft and skidded to a stop in front of the massive fridge. He was starving! Less then a second after that, Bart sat at the island, munching on his second peanut butter and jelly sandwich, trying not to think about how he was never going to meet his real mom. After a whole week of thinking that Stella Bonasera was his mom, finding out the truth was devastating… and Bart really didn't want to think about it. He dropped his head to the marble counter with a groan, wishing for once that his mind would just slow down and be _still_.

"Bart?"

Oliver Queen, billionaire, philanthropist and secret vigilante, entered his kitchen and stopped when he saw the speedster sitting at the counter, abnormally still. Bart Allen was never still; he was always in constant motion, often to the team's exasperation. Impulse never seemed to slow down, and at times just being in the same room as the kid was tiring. Not even Clark Kent could keep up. But seeing the kid not moving at all, somehow just seemed so fundamentally _wrong_, and it made Oliver's concern skyrocket.

Bart lifted his head off the counter. "Oh hey dude. Uh, your out of peanut butter by the way."

Oliver walked in and rolled his eyes. "Oh course I am. Can't you ask Victor to teach you how to make something _other_ then PB&J's? I go through five jars a week. George must think I'm weird." He subtly looked over his teammate as he headed towards the fridge, noticing the reddened eyes and slumped shoulders.

"Pfft. Whatever. Why mess with the classics? It's not like you know how to cook either and you should really buy your own groceries anyways. Plus you are already weird. Just accept it."

"I am not weird! How am I weird?"

Bart rolled his eyes. "Oh I don't know. Maybe it's because you roam around at night wearing green spandex and leather? Or maybe because one of your best friend's is a man whose more machine then human and the other one is the male form of the Little Mermaid?"

Oliver glared, and tossed Bart bottled water; who snatched it out of the air with natural dexterity. Oliver waited for a beat, before gently asking: "So, how did it go? Did you finally talk to her?"

Bart's smile instantly disappeared. "Uh, it was a case of mistaken identity actually. Apparently I was stalking a random women." Bart scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "But I meet her husband, a Det. Mac Taylor."

Oliver leaned back against the counter. "Yah? And how did that go?"

"She died on 9/11. She was in one of the towers."

Bart tried to keep his tone casual, play if off as if it was no big deal; but Oliver didn't need Clark's super-hearing to hear the heartbreak in Bart's tone. He inwardly winced in sympathy, knowing better then anyone what it was like to lose a parent. He also knew how much Bart had been looking forward to meeting his real mom, especially after the fiasco with his adoptive parents.

"Jesus, Bart. I'm sorry."

Bart shrugged, his eyes downcast. "No big deal _hombre_. It's not like I knew her or anything."

Oliver walked over to the kid and gripped the back of Bart's neck comfortingly, giving a reassuring squeeze. "Still sucks though."

Bart snorted but leaned slightly into the touch, squeezing his eyes tightly. "That's one way of putting it."

With one last reassuring squeeze, Oliver stepped back and leaned against the island beside Bart with his arms crossed, his gaze concerned. "So, what are you going to do now?"

Bart cleared his throat roughly, trying to swallow the lump of emotion that was slowly rising up. "Uh, I think I'm going to hang around New York and stuff. Mac said he would give me a call, you know, to show me pictures and stuff. Which would be cool." Finally, he looked up at Oliver. "If that's ok and everything?"

Oliver rolled his eyes, and jokingly felt Bart's forehead for a temperature. "Are you sick? Since when was the last time you asked permission to do anything?" He smirked when Bart smacked his hand away with a glare. He reached over and playfully ruffled Bart's hair. "Of course you can stay kid. Since I'm technically your guardian anyways, what's mine is yours, got it?"

Bart slapped Qliver's hand away again with a half hearted growl, "Stop touching the hair, you're ruining my style. I am so not a puppy dude."

Oliver just grinned and retracted his hand. He knew that if Bart really hated it that much he'd be half way across the country before Oliver could even touch a strand. "What style? You look like you just rolled out of bed. And trust me, I wish you were a puppy. Puppies are cute, and actually can learn how to sit and _stay_."

Bart frowned. "I have you know, the girls love the hair. It's rebellious and casually cool."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "What girls Bart? You've been in the Amazon with A.C for the last month and then spent the last five day's stalking a women all across New York City." At the mention of Stella, Bart's demeanor instantly wilted and Oliver suddenly wished he could kick himself. Oliver inwardly cursed, Chloe was right; he really could be a mindless thug sometimes.

Oliver quickly scrambled to find something to say to break the awkward tension, but he was coming up blank. So, instead he just decided to ignore the tension and playfully bumped Bart's shoulder, forcing the teenager to meet his eyes. "Listen, you can stay here as long as you'd like. Don't worry about anything ok. What's mine is yours remember?"

Bart grinned. "So does that mean I can…?"

"No." Oliver interrupted quickly. "You are definitely not allowed to drive any of the cars or motorcycles. You don't even have a license!"

Bart shrugged, smirking. "Who would want something so slow anyways?" He grinned at Oliver's insulted expression, and suddenly realized he felt ten times better. He still regretted the fact that he missed the chance to meet his real mom, but maybe what Mac revealed will help. He seemed like a pretty cool dude, if maybe a little on the stiff side. Plus, Bart was part of a team that helped save the world daily from a twisted, evil mastermind. What mother wouldn't be proud of that?

Bart jumped off the stool, disappeared and a second later returned, with three bags of Doritos in his hands. "Come on. Want to pig out, play Halo and watch me kick your ass?" He asked with a mocking smile.

"Sure kid." Oliver deadpanned. "Maybe in your dreams."

Bart grinned and waggled his eyebrows. "No way _Amigo_. My dream's are way more interesting then that!" With a laugh, he zipped out of the room.

Oliver shook his head in exasperation. "Way to much information." But with a small, fond smile, the billionaire pulled out his phone and called his assistant, cancelling his meetings for the day.

* * *

Bart didn't hear from Mac Taylor until three days later, on Thanksgiving. He was actually running across Germany when he stopped to answer the detective's call, heading back to New York after grabbing a quick bite to eat in China. The speedster's stomach clenched with sudden nerves when he saw the number on the call ID. Bart didn't actually believe that Mac Taylor was going to call. Bart wanted to know more about his mom, but he didn't think that the head of the New York City crime lab would want to bother with him after their initial meeting. Bart wasn't sure if he should be excited or anxious. With a deep breath to steady his growing nerves, Bart flipped open his cell and tried to answer with his usual flamboyant flair.

"Tim's Lotto, Ammo and Diaper Emporium? You need it, we've got it!"

There was a brief silence, before Bart heard Mac's low chuckle: "Bart? It's Mac Taylor."

Bart grinned in relief, "Hey Mr. Taylor, what's up?"

"It's Mac." Mac paused for a split second. "I was wondering… Do you like cheese-burgers?"

Bart eyed a cow grazing nearby and laughed. "Dude, who doesn't? The only thing better then a burrito is a burger."

"Great, PJ Clark's on 3rd has the best burgers in town. My treat?"

Bart paused; suddenly having a horrible thought that Mac was just reaching out in pity. They weren't even related after all. Bart didn't need anyone's pity! He was _Impluse_! The fastest man alive!"Look Mr. Taylor, Mac whatever, I appreciate the offer but you don't have to start buying me meals because you feel bad or something."

There was a long pause, and for a moment Bart thought Mac had hung up before the Detective spoke up: "Look, Bart. I'm not calling for you or me. I'm calling because despite what you said when we first met about us not being related, we do have one very special thing in common. You're mother: Claire Conrad Taylor. I know she would have liked us to get to know each other, and I want to give that to her." Mac paused. "How about it?"

Bart blinked back sudden tears and nodded before realizing that Mac couldn't see him. "Uh sure, what time?"

"Can you meet me in 15 minutes?"

Bart laughed lightly, juggling his cell with his shoulder as he bent down to tie his shoes. 15 minutes sometimes felt like _hours_ to people like him. "I can be there faster then you can blink _hombre_!"

Mac chuckled. "Alright, then I'd better not be late. See you then."

"Uh wait!" Bart called out, just before Mac hung up. He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "Uh just… you know, thanks Mac."

Mac's voice came across as warm and steady. Bart could almost _hear_ the detective smile: "Don't mention it. See you in 15."

Bart closed his cell, his smile immediately growing into a wide grin. His previous, anxious nerves were forgotten, and now all Bart could feel was excitement. Maybe it was weird, but it was nice having a something, _someone_, tie him to New York. Sure, it would never be as strong as the ties that bound him to the Justice League, but it felt great all the same. For once, someone wanted to get to know just Bart Allen, not Impluse, Oliver's ward or even AC's and Victor's younger friend. Just Bart. His smile grew even larger at the thought.

With a sloppy salute goodbye to the nearby solitary cow, Bart Allen took off and in a flash was heading over the Pacific Ocean. His stomach rumbled, and Bart quickly changed his direction to Mexico. After all, 15 minutes was a long time and he might need a burrito or two to tide him over. He had all the time in the world, and Bart Allen, the fastest man alive, was never late. 

* * *

Hope you all loved it, and I hope it inspired some of you to write your own Bart Allen crossover!

Avaunt


End file.
